what a tragedy it would have been
if you had loved me when i had confessed
because now i know, i hadn't understood then

that my definition of love had been  
not so much actually loving but rather just
a romanticized idea of being in love instead

It's 1am and here I am laying in your bed,
                                                   wishing you were here,
                                                           ­                             instead;
  You're 2,593 miles from me....

I find myself
Waiting for the end
Begging it to come
The sticky sweet beginning
That drags its rotted body to the eyes of
the Sun and stars
And I
Cannot wait
For the cycles to close.